Make my wish come true
by stephmcx
Summary: He hadn't exactly talked with Danny about spending the evening together, but there's this burning need in him to check up on Danny, to make sure he is okay. Even if he had seen Danny only a couple of hours before. (An extended version of the last scene of episode 8x11.)


It had been a nice evening, a great party even and Steve is grateful that their impromptu acquired case hadn't spoiled Christmas Eve for any of the team. He is proud of them, the way they had handled the situation with dedication and great presence of mind. And he is impressed by the group of Vets and their determination to help, as if their sacrifices hadn't already been enough. Danny had called it a Christmas Miracle when they had filled him in on what had happened today, and Steve thinks it oddly fitting.

But he is also glad that the social part of the evening is over and done with, because it has been a hell of a long day. He hadn't exactly talked with Danny about spending the evening together, but there's this burning need in him to check up on Danny, to make sure he is okay—even if he had seen Danny only a couple of hours before at the party.

Danny is still on leave from Five-0 and Danny is his friend, his best friend, the most important person in his life if he's being honest, and Steve has always felt kind of responsible for Danny's well-being. He had always felt like it was his job to make sure Danny was okay—and ever since Danny got shot, since Steve nearly lost him, this feeling has taken a constant presence in his mind.

It's already late when Steve gets into his truck and drives along the dark and deserted streets of Honolulu. He takes in the festive lights, thinks about how everyone should be at home with their loved ones on an evening like this, and he wonders if Danny maybe expects him to come over for the same reasons Steve wants to be there. He knows it's mostly wishful thinking, but hey, it's Christmas. It's the one time it's alright to hope despite knowing it's futile.

When he arrives at Danny's house, everything is quiet. He stands in the doorway for a moment, listening, and picks up murmuring voices from the direction of the bedrooms. So Danny's still busy tucking Charlie into bed. He shakes his head a little, amusedly, at the memory of building Charlie's race car bed; but he knows how much it means to Danny to have Charlie over on Christmas Eve and for Christmas morning. Grace will drop by in the morning, too, and Steve knows it's as perfect as it can get for Danny. Who can blame him if he wants to have his own fill of Danny being really and truly happy for once?

Steve kicks off his shoes and wanders into the living room, looking around and taking in all the lovingly put Christmas decorations. His eyes land on a plate filled with cookies that he's sure Charlie put there for Santa. He tries one cookie and it is delicious, so he takes the rest, too, because _someone_ needs to eat them after all.

Danny's house is so much more of a family home than his own place, and there's a familiar pang of regret and a well-known longing bubbling up in his chest. He's surprised to notice that there are actually four stockings hung on the mantelpiece and he nearly chokes on the last bite of cookie when he reads the names—one of them is marked "Uncle Steve". The longing from before intensifies painfully, but there is also a sweet and fuzzy kind of warmth emerging at the sight that soothes the ache a little. He wonders if this is Danny's doing or if one of the kids had their hand in it.

Steve coughs and tries to clear his throat of cookie crumbs, but he needs something to drink now, something to cool the raw feeling not just in his throat, but also in his heart. He walks over to the kitchen, and has just poured himself a glass of milk when he hears Danny's footsteps. He walks back into the living room to greet Danny, and he should say something nice, he really wants to, but his mind is still busy sorting out the Christmas stockings and getting a handle on his emotions.

"Why you gotta hold out on me with these cookies?" he says, "why wouldn't you tell me about these, they are shockingly good. You don't tell me about these?"

The words that come out of his mouth sound much more like an accusation than the intended compliment and Danny raises to the bait instantly.

"I don't know why that's shocking, I'm a fantastic baker."

"You baked these?" Steve says, deliberately incredulous, because this is okay, this is what they do. This is what he can handle easily.

"Yeah, I baked those. Do me a favor, next time you steal some—"

"Whoa, whoa, you say steal? I didn't steal anything—"

"You didn't?"

"They were sitting right there—" Steve points to where the empty cookie plate sits next to the fireplace.

"For Santa Claus. They were sitting right there for Santa Claus, not for you. Okay?" Danny picks up the plate and holds it out to Steve. "I hope you're proud of yourself, you stole cookies from Santa Claus. Animal!"

Steve puts the cookies back onto the plate and takes it out of Danny's hand. "Let me explain something to you, alright—"

Danny walks around to Steve's side of the coffee table and sits down on the couch. He props his feet up against the table and raises his hands in a resigned gesture. "Please, explain something to me. Because I need things explained to me." His humorless and slightly annoyed tone of voice would have fooled anyone, but not Steve.

They are grappling for normalcy, that's what this is, and Steve knows it. Arguing is their default status and in rough times, like the last couple of weeks have been, hell, like the last year has been, they're both relying on this. Bantering over a couple of cookies like this is way over the top, even for them, but he fully intends to play along and keep it up, just because he can. The memory of what happened to Danny in quarantine is too fresh in his mind, the image of Danny slowly dying right in front of him, of Danny dying right under his hands is haunting him every time he closes his eyes.

He looks at Danny, still and thankfully very much alive and Steve sits down next to him and they keep going for another couple of minutes, teasing and insulting and just plain bullshitting each other. He loves it, enjoys every word of it, even as it becomes progressively harder to keep a straight face.

"You're a gorilla," Danny says eventually. Steve can see the silent laughter in his eyes, can see him struggling not to laugh and that's when Steve cracks up. He snorts in a very undignified way and he knows what Danny would have to say about that, only Danny is now laughing, too.

Steve puts his arm around Danny's shoulders and pulls him in for a quick hug. Danny reciprocates by scooting closer and leaning into his side a little. It's cozy like that, it's exactly where he wants to be and they sit like that for a small moment until they have both sobered up from laughing. Danny shows no intentions of pulling back though, so instead of removing his arm from Danny's shoulders, Steve leaves it exactly where it is and settles in.

He can feel the excitement of the day drain out of him, he lets himself relax, because right now, in this moment, everything is right in his world. As complicated as it sometimes is between them, it's also often very easy. As much as they are opposites in so many things, no one understands him better than Danny.

Somewhat belatedly, he becomes aware of the fact that he has started stroking his thumb lightly along Danny's collarbone—but since Danny doesn't complain Steve sees no reason to stop the caress. It should probably be scary, how close their friendship has grown over the years, how they are stretching the boundaries of mere friendship. Steve is well aware that his feelings for Danny run way deeper than friendship, and he should probably feel guilty about enjoying this intimacy between them so much, but he knows it's not all just him. He's not sure though, on which side of the line Danny stands, so he usually doesn't dare think about what-ifs and things he wants but can't have.

Right now, mellowed by Christmas feelings and distracted by Danny's warm and solid presence next to him, with a dull ache of longing in his chest, he lets his mind wander and it makes some odd leaps and then there's a thought just occurring that he has to share with Danny—because it seems equally hilarious and alarmingly true.

"You know, all these people always telling us we were married?" he asks, carefully neutral.

"Yeah? What about 'em?" Danny asks back, interest piqued.

"I think they were right," Steve blurts before he can think better of it.

"Why would you think that?" Danny asks, his voice more genuine curiosity than the expected mocking.

"Were you listening to this conversation we were just having? And I mean, look at us. It's Christmas Eve and what are we doing? Sitting here on your couch, bitching at each other and—" Steve stops short, because what he's thinking is _and there is nothing I'd rather do right now_.

"—and I'm really glad we're both still here to do that, babe," Danny finishes his sentence for him, still unexpectedly serious, while he puts his hand on Steve's thigh and squeezes lightly for emphasis.

Steve is amazed, by the physical contact, but mostly because he had been half joking, half hoping that Danny would make fun of his thought, but he should have known that Danny can see right through him.

"Yeah, man, me too." His voice is a little hoarse, even to his own ears, and Danny turns his head to look at him and his face is suddenly so much closer than Steve had anticipated.

They're staring at each other for a moment, and Steve can't tell how much time has passed, it could have been a minute or mere seconds, before Danny says "I know a thing or two about marriage, by the way." There is a sly grin forming on his face and it makes Steve acutely aware of Danny's hand still resting on his thigh. "And if this is a marriage, it's missing something. Something essential."

"Is that right?" Steve swallows. The pain in his chest burns brightly now, fueled with feelings that have been so carefully locked up for so many years. He moves his hand from Danny's shoulder to the nape of his neck and Danny looks at him expectantly.

"So were you gonna propose or just asking permission to kiss me?" Danny's tone is light, teasing, but Steve has a good idea how much courage these words must have cost him.

He feels his heart beating rapidly, he's more nervous right now than before any op. But he's no coward either, so he says "Shut up, Danno," and leans in.

It's only a touch at first, soft lips and rough stubble and an excitement that is familiar yet completely new at the same time. He stops and pulls back a fraction of an inch, waits for a reaction from Danny, giving him room to back out, but instead Danny moves _in_, rubs his hand firmly along Steve's thigh and presses his mouth back onto Steve's.

Danny's lips are hot and his mouth is demanding and Steve opens his own mouth eagerly, letting his tongue brush against Danny's and he can't remember the last time a kiss has caused such a thrill like this one does. Danny's hand comes up, cupping his cheek gentle but strong, and it is no surprise that they are both trying to dominate the kiss, except for how much of a turn-on it is.

The kiss is a little uncoordinated and a little rough and altogether fantastic, but it went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, they're skipping playful completely here and it's too quick, too soon to head for dark and dirty. It's not easy and he doesn't really want to, but eventually Steve breaks the kiss and pulls back.

"Just— wait a moment," he pants, breathless, the adrenaline pumping through his body a familiar feeling, but very different from what he's used to and so much better. "So— after eight years, we're doing this now?" Steve can't quite believe this is true, this is happening, it's all he ever wanted and he's half expecting to wake up from a dream anytime soon. But he can feel Danny's breath on his skin, he can still taste him on his tongue and he can feel Danny's hands, strong and firm and holding him close.

"It's about damn time, don't you think?" Danny says, dismissing his question easily and he grins, making Steve smile in return. "Don't overthink this— please—," Danny leans in and whispers against Steve's lips, pausing every few words to press a small kiss onto Steve's mouth, "because this is me— having my very own private Christmas miracle."

"What?" Steve is too distracted by all the feelings, physical ones just as much as all the emotions that are overflowing his heart right now, to follow Danny's line of thought.

"Nevermind," Danny says, "merry Christmas, Steve." He's leaning in again, both hands cupping Steve's face now and he captures Steve's mouth with his own.

"Merry Christmas, Danny," Steve whispers before letting go of any remaining clear thought and kissing Danny back with all he's got.


End file.
